


Of Course, Mr. Styles

by countingcr0ws



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Age Difference, Babysitter Louis, Baking, Daddy Harry, Damn, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Humor, Kid Fic, M/M, Meet-Cute, Romance, SHIELD Agent Harry Styles, Spies & Secret Agents, University Student Louis, Very little agenting though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-18
Updated: 2016-07-18
Packaged: 2018-07-24 18:35:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7518950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/countingcr0ws/pseuds/countingcr0ws
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry's new babysitter is unlike the four before him.</p>
<p>Louis Tomlinson with the blue eyes takes Harry's shirts without asking, buys enough boxes of cereal to feed a battalion, calls him a beetle in arguments, forces Harry to watch <i>Grease the Musical</i> with him, and wants Oliver to drink more milk just to see him be the tallest in class</p>
<p>Harry feels guilty about asking for more. He doesn't know how to tell Louis to play blanket fort with him and Olly instead of staying out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Course, Mr. Styles

**Author's Note:**

  * For [patdkitten](https://archiveofourown.org/users/patdkitten/gifts).



> It's located in the US, but it's not US-picked? I think you'll find some Brit stuff even though I've tried to pick it out on my own.

Harry waited in the tree, breath steady. Revelling in the unyielding press against his cheek and his shoulder, he watched through the scope of his M-24, tracing the movements of the few guards patrolling the perimeters of the dilapidated building.

Anytime now, he thought, wetting his lips subconsciously when he saw his target exiting with the mafia head. It was careless of the latter, really. The man had become drunk on the success of his networks and had insisted on shaming their target–the mayor of the crime infested city.

Harry watched their handshake blandly. He had been posted onto the case for two weeks, and Zayn Malik, one of his colleagues had been on even longer as he slowly worked his way up the organization’s rankings. Noticing agent Malik’s signal, Harry squeezed his trigger lightly, taking the clean shot.

Without waiting to watch the mafia boss drop to the ground, Harry continued to remove the other guards while Zayn disarmed the boss. Swearing when he noticed the mayor running towards his own vehicle, Harry took out the man’s knee efficiently, drawing back to the sight of Zayn saluting him.

Releasing his breath, Harry finally relaxed in his position. A call to the extraction team and an unavoidably lengthy debrief later, the sniper would be able to return home.

-

Harry stumbled into his house thirty hours later, comforted by the whirl of the cypher lock on his door as it closed behind him. Dropping his bag of gear onto the floor at the entryway, he rolled his left shoulder as he entered the apartment, pausing when he noticed the light in the living room.

“Olly?” Harry called out quietly, his steps silent as he released the safety on his handgun. He had disembarked at the airbase at 0232, caught a cab home at 0256, and had reached the lift of his house at 0321. Oliver’s bedtime was at 2100, and he had consulted S.H.I.E.L.D.’s Technological Assets department regarding the house's security before moving in. It couldn’t be Olly, and it was close to impossible for it to be a robber. Harry moved down the entryway like a shadow of the night.

The man froze at the immediate sight of a university aged boy sprawled gracelessly on the couch. Replacing the safety switch on the gun, Harry closed in on the guest as he made a mental note to remind the babysitter of his rules. He had clear instructions for Janet that no friends were allowed overnight, and was that his Rolling Stones shirt?

Marvelling at the boy’s ability to sleep so soundly in an enemy’s den, Harry loomed over the intruder before prodding him awake with a toe.

“What’re you doing in my house?” Harry asked as he waved the gun carelessly at the boy, hoping that news of his intimidation tactics would spread, making Janet’s friends think twice before bunking over.

“Wha–”the boy slurred as he sat up groggily, eyes popping at the sight of the M9 trained on him, the textbook leaning against his thighs shifting as he stirred.

Harry was struck speechless when the boy suddenly launched in and then shot upright, now with the gun in his hands instead. The disarming movement was perfect–quick, and confident, with a swift grab of the barrel and a sharp twist of his hand to acquire the pistol.

"What the fuck," Harry swore.

The boy closed in with a sneer as he flicked the safety off without breaking eye contact. “I could say the same about you, pal.”

Harry bit down the instinct to reach for his boot knives to defend himself, careful not to startle the stranger. The boy was practically a child, swimming in the worn cotton of Harry’s shirt. It could have doubled as a dress, albeit a very short one on the petite boy, and Harry privately thought that the stranger was probably also aware of his own stature, judging from the defeated looking quiff that had deflated after a long day.

“Hands up!” The boy demanded in the lull, and Harry complied carefully, wary of the gun in the boy's control. Hands in the air, Harry could already picture his next few moves–he would wrestle the gun away and pin the intruder down. It would be easy. He was after all also trained in close combat, but he shook the thoughts away. Now wasn’t the time. It was crucial that the boy remained calm.

“Do you know how to handle a gun?” Harry asked carefully as he looked at the boy’s steady grip.

“Don’t test me,” the fiery brown haired boy spat, refusing to be distracted. “Who are you and how did you enter?”

Harry was grudgingly impressed by the stranger’s mulishness. The boy was shorter and less built, with nothing in his advantage apart from the gun. Judging by how jumpy he was presently, his disarming success was clearly attributable to practice, adrenaline, or sheer luck. He really had nothing on Harry. 

“I’m Harry, Janet’s employer. I’m Oliver Alexander Styles’ father. I live here,” Harry explained carefully, hoping to defuse the situation before the idiot got someone injured, or worse, wake Olly. His son would _never_ sleep if he knew that his father was home.

“Oh,” the boy blinked before touching his forehead with the back of his left hand. “Ohhh,” he repeated, quickly fumbling to replace the safety as if suddenly remembering its presence “There you go,” he handed the pistol over airily before returning to the couch and falling across it, reminiscent of his precious position.

Harry watched as the boy laid with an arm over his own forehead, eyes closed.

“Don’t creep up on people like that in future, Mr. Styles.”

Harry sputtered indignantly. “Then don’t bunk over at my house the next time, stranger.”

The boy blinked at him, head cocked in confusion. Harry held his ground as he returned his gun to his hip holster without looking away. Janet’s friend was simply the cockiest, and the most indignant person he had ever met.

The boy suddenly sat up with a frown. “I’m your new babysitter, Mr. Styles. Janet’s my course mate. Her mum’s ill, and she’s gone home for quite a while. I think Niall should have informed you?” He shrugged before sticking his hand out quickly. “Louis William Tomlinson, twenty one years old, born in LA, child psychology and education double major, babysitter to Olly for eight… well, nine days,” he corrected himself, remembering that a day had passed. “Your son’s very intelligent and well behaved. Pleased to meet you, Mr. Styles.”

Harry took the boy’s hand, bowled over by the force of Louis William Tomlinson’s personality. He suddenly had the vague recollection of Niall’s message in between reading briefs, surveillance, and plotting to intercept information for Zayn.

“Harry, Harry Styles. Don’t call me Mr. Styles. ‘M not that old,” he gestured vaguely as he smiled wearily at the boy. “Sorry for the gun. Just wanted to intimidate a little. Safety was on.” he apologized, before struggling, and promptly failing to bite back a yawn. “Can we talk tomorrow? It’s been a while since I slept.” Grateful when Louis the new babysitter nodded quickly before bidding him goodnight, Harry checked in on Olly silently. It had been close to 48 hours since Harry had last slept, and he was only good at staying up for work. Louis with the blue eyes from LA wasn’t work, he thought to himself as he collapsed after a navy shower.

-

“Daddy! Daddy! Daddy!” Oliver screamed as he ran into the room, jolting Harry from his sleep before collapsing on him. “Daddy, wake up, wake up!”

Groaning at the muted but annoying thumps on his back, Harry shifted, rolling his son onto the bed and wrapping the boy with his comforter in a swift move. “Sleep with Daddy, buggy,” he mumbled as he pinned the child down gently, a loose smile on his face despite the mere four hours of rest.

“Daddy, nooo!” Oliver laughed as he flailed under the comforter. Harry refused to relent, only releasing his son after rounds of tickling. The boy’s smile was wide when they finally settled.

“Oh, you lost your tooth!” Harry exclaimed when he noticed the gappy smile.

Oliver nodded quickly. “I’ve been working really hard on it. Louis gave me a dollar when it finally came out.”

Harry frowned at the comment. “Louis gave you a dollar? How about the tooth fairy?”

“The tooth fairy doesn’t exist, daddy,” the boy rolled his eyes in exasperation. “And a dollar, daddy! A dollar! My next tooth has to drop out now.” He wiggled his finger under his upper lip. Harry batted it away without thinking as the boy continued on. “Did you know that Jamie lost both but he didn’t even get a single dollar? Louis’ the _best_ , daddy.”

Harry smiled at the blatant bribery. “Is your left one wobbly already?” He asked, a little lost at how fast his son was growing. Six years had passed so quickly and Oliver would be leaving for college tomorrow.

“Nope!” The boy replied as he knocked his tongue against his tooth persistently.

“Then don’t do that, Olly. It’ll be wobbly by itself real soon.”

“But a dollar, daddy! A whole dollar!”

Harry was astounded by the logic. What would the boy even be doing with the money? “How about this, Olly? Daddy’ll give you a dollar if you let him continue sleeping.”

The boy went still immediately. Harry smiled as he let his eyes close peacefully. It was evident that he too was not above bribery like Louis Tomlinson the babysitter.

Just as he was about to drift off with the thought of Oliver paying his own college tuition with Louis’ dollar, Harry was jolted awake with a light kick from a squirming boy.

“No way, daddy. Come on. It’s time for school!” The boy sing-songed in mimicry of his father’s staple cheery line during school days. 

-

Harry trudged to the dining table, feeling like a zombie as he greeted Louis with a weak smile. He was incredibly hungry, but he didn’t feel human enough to eat. Harry dropped into a random chair like a sack of potatoes.

The college student ducked his head apologetically. “Sorry, I told him to not disturb you too much, but he was too excited.”

Harry waved the concern off. “It’s okay. I’ll be going back to sleep when you guys leave.” Harry eyed the Rolling Stones shirt still draped over the boy’s petite form. “Do you have class today?”

Louis bit his lip in embarrassment when he noticed the other’s scrutiny of his clothes. “Sorry for taking your shirt. I’m really bad with laundry. I even moved in here with dirty clothes, so I ran out pretty quickly. But I do laundry really well when I do do it, so I promise it’ll be clean when I return it.” 

Harry waved the concern off. “I don’t mind about cleanliness, but rather, that the shirt’s _vintage_ ,” he dragged the last word out, finding great pleasure when the younger boy squirmed. “Just pulling your leg, don’t sweat it. But anyway, I don’t mind laundry. I could do it the next time I’m home and when you have a load.”

Louis shifted in his seat, seemingly uncomfortable, his eyes failing to meet Harry’s unlike yesterday night. Or well, today morning if you really wanted to be precise. Harry was perplexed by the behaviour. Opening his mouth to continue his question about the boy’s schedule, he paused when Louis raised a finger to stop him.

“Olly! It’s seven forty! You haven’t had breakfast!” The boy yelled as he straightened the cereal boxes on the table. Harry was startled to note the sudden increase in variety. There was presently seven boxes instead of the usual two, and all were opened.

Harry realised how much he needed to sleep, having no ability to focus on anything else but the new babysitter in his beloved shirt.

“What would you like today for breakfast?” Louis asked when Oliver charged out of his room, changed out of his pyjamas, schoolbag in hand.

“Coco pops, please.”

“Good choice, Mr. Styles,” Louis complimented, wiggling his brows at Harry while he returned the bag into the box. Harry huffed at the other’s ridiculous sense of humour while Olly poured the milk by himself with an exuberant smile.

“My class starts at eleven thirty, and ends at five thirty today. Thursday is the only day that ends after three, and Niall and I have subscribed for afterschool care on Thursdays, which ends at six. I didn’t get to plan my schedule with the job in mind at the start of the semester.” He shrugged, “sorry.”

Harry smiled when he noted the edge in the last word. Louis didn’t seem to like apologizing when he didn’t think himself at fault, and the headstrong character amused Harry.

“Don’t apologize. It’s not your fault anyway. Did Niall tell you to put your timetable up?” Harry eyed the refrigerator before looking at Louis who had cleared the dining table while Oliver slurped the last of the milk in his bowl up noisily.

“Yeah, he did.” Ruffling Oliver’s hair when he put the dishes into the dishwasher, Louis picked the boy’s bag up before heading towards the door. “Remember to bring your guns in, Harry!” He called from the door while trying to convince Ollie that the shoes with the blue stripes went well with the green froggy shirt that he was wearing.

Harry smiled at them contentedly as he watched them argue. Waving them off, Harry heaved his bag up before stumbling back to his bed, his brain foggy with exhaustion.

-

Harry woke after one to a silent house, body aching from too much sleep. His mind was however refreshed, and he stared at the white ceiling while creating a mental list of the things he had to do. Deciding that he had no time for the self defense gym he was a member of, the Special Forces agent unrolled the exercise mat beside his bed.

Pulling his hair up into a bun, Harry fumbled for his workout music, then began his sit ups and push ups. When he moved on to the pull up bar by the doorway after, his muscles had begun to ache pleasantly with the exertion of a good work out.

Sitting naked on his bed after a long shower, Harry checked his email again and was pleased to find the folder containing the details of his new babysitter from Niall. Flicking through the pages on his iPad, the man skimmed through the information the blond Human Resources Specialist had already shared over the phone call, grateful that his friend had covered the crucial questions on his behalf.

Harry knew that he was one of the rare cases in S.H.I.E.L.D. Majority of his colleagues were single and childless, the unpredictable schedule of missions making relationship commitments hard, while those with children typically had spouses or partners to settle mundane details like babysitting arrangements on their behalf.

He had known Niall for close to nine years now, having been recruited by S.H.I.E.L.D. after acing his Special Forces Qualification Course with the military at the age of nineteen, when he had graduated from high school, unsure of what to do. The blond had been there when the strain of having an absent partner had ruined his three years long relationship with Nick, leaving him with a six months old Olly from a surrogacy arrangement at the age of twenty three. Harry had been so lost when the dreams of raising a big family with Nick shattered before him.

Nick had always been his refuge after a gruelling mission, and Harry had been too occupied with S.H.I.E.L.D.’s then commitments in the Middle East to notice that he had been neglecting the man he loved, until it was too late. It had taken Harry a while, but after a six month long leave to care for Olly properly for the first time, Harry had reviewed his life to give his son the best. Leveraging on his sniping skills to negotiate for missions no longer than three weeks at a time, Harry had also hired a live in babysitter, an arrangement that had continued for five years now.

It was inevitable that he would still think of having a partner whenever the house was empty like this, but the thought would pass as quickly as it came. It would be nice for Olly to have a papa too, but it would be nicer if Harry had enough love to spare for someone other than his son. Closing the document, Harry pulled his body armour and combat gear out of his bag and headed for the washing machine.

-

Harry (2.19pm): I’m doing laundry now. Do you still have things you want to wash? Do you want me to do yours? I've just began on mine.

_Louis Tomlinson (2.20pm): Wanted to get it done before I left but too much readings! Are you really sure?_

_Louis Tomlinson (2.20pm): It’s in the pink hampers in my room. Mix mine with Olly’s if you haven’t done his yet. I don’t really care._

_Louis Tomlinson (2.21pm): DON’T FOLD THEM WHEN YOU’RE DONE. LEAVE IT!!!!!!!!!!_

Harry (2.33): Shouldn’t you be in class? Please concentrate, Louis. Tuition is expensive.

_Louis Tomlinson (2.33pm): Listening to the prof but accepting your offer is more important._

Harry (2.36pm): <Picture sent>

Harry (2.36pm): This is a lot of laundry, Louis! You actually have more than one hamper!! What did you even wear to class today??

_Louis Tomlinson (2.38pm): One of your Dad shirts. Standing out like a sore thumb now. Opposite of stealth. Are you really an agent?_

_Louis Tomlinson (2.38pm): Got laughed at for the shirt 231341984 times. Don’t know why I took it._

Harry set his phone down as he blinked at the message in disbelief. The babysitter’s casual tone had been surprising enough, but being reproached for his fashion sense by a clothing stealer was another. After spending most of his time in the muted colours of camouflage and combat gear, Harry had made it a point to stock his casual clothes with the opposite. It was just too bad that Louis didn’t appreciate his taste.

The reply however, was harder to craft. His relationship with his babysitters had always been fairly professional, the exchanges simultaneously carrying a fair degree of casualness and deference on the babysitters' part whenever the need aroused. The privacy lines were also always clear with them. With Jenny (he needed to send her a message soon), he would ask about her grades and the courses she were taking, and on other times, their conversations would revolve either around Olly, or her latest assignments, never straying beyond. Everything was unlike the present conversation with Louis. There were even caps lock in the boy’s messages, for goodness’ sake. Lips pursed in a thin line, Harry formulated his response carefully.

Harry (2.41pm): That’s not a very nice thing to say…

He gave himself a pat on the back for the mature but casual reply.

_Louis Tomlinson (2.42pm): Hahahhahhhhaha, jk. Would never wear them, please._

_Louis Tomlinson (2.42pm): <Picture sent>_

_Louis Tomlinson (2.42pm): Still the RS shirt. If you weren’t back, I would have taken another huge non Dad shirt. RS is the first and only shirt I took though, don’t worry._

_Louis Tomlinson (2.43pm): <Picture sent>_

_Louis Tomlinson (2.43pm): Look how big it is. Have to keep rolling it back up to look presentable. My friends all want to meet the new boyfriend. Lololol._

_Louis Tomlinson (2.44pm): Told them we haven’t reached that stage yet, hahaha._

_Louis Tomlinson (2.44pm): Ugh, GTG. Leemo scolded._

_Louis Tomlinson (2.45pm): DON’T FOLD MY STUFF!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! JUST DUMP ON THE BED!!!!!_

_Louis Tomlinson (2.45pm): Thanks for doing laundry. You the best, bye_

What the fuck, Harry thought to himself in disbelief. What the actual fuck. Harry watched Louis’ ‘online’ status disappear disbelievingly as he tried to make sense of the boy’s avalanche of messages.

Forcefully clearing his mind of the whirlwind that was his new babysitter, Harry switched the screen off grimly and focused obsessively on his yogurt instead, the unfailing mental clock within him waiting for the washer to beep.

-

Harry (4.41pm): You didn’t mention if you have plans tonight. You know that you can stay out late when I’m home, right? Are you picking Oliver up? I’m going to be there. Do you want me to pick you up from school?

_Louis Tomlinson (4.57pm): DID YOU FOLD MY CLOTHES??? ARE THEY DONE??_

_Louis Tomlinson (4.57pm): No plans tonight. Niall and Janet covered details. Don't sweat it!!_

_Louis Tomlinson (4.59pm): Class ending 5.30, education block? Still remember the place?_

Harry felt a little surer this time as he replied the boy. Now familiar with the boy’s casual typing, it was easier to parry the flood of messages. Nonetheless, it was obvious that Janet had passed on the details of their arrangement to Louis. Not only did the boy seemed to know where Harry would pick his predecessor, Harry was also sure that the information sharing had contributed to the air of familiarity the boy adopted around him.

Harry tried to take it in stride. All of his previous babysitters had never known each other, unlike Louis who had been recommended by Janet, partially motivated by the boy’s living arrangements.

Bunking at a friend’s couch after moving out from the apartment he used to share with his cheating ex-boyfriend, Louis had been a good fit for the immediate vacancy. It was so serendipitous, Harry had went through the interview transcript thrice and reread the background check in the file four times before he was assured.

Ending the conversation smoothly with another reminder of the other’s tuition fees, Harry returned to the reviewing and rearranging of the contents of his cupboards. It had been just nine days, but the mark Louis had left in his house was significant.

He was now the owner of two ‘Simple & Healthy’ cookbooks, enough cereal to feed a battalion, three bottles of dinosaur shaped children vitamins, and two huge second-hand encyclopaedias of animals and science discoveries, among other things. The purchases were so random, yet so practical, that Harry itched to know exactly how they were bought, and the boy’s motivations for them.

Harry had a card for household expenses in the drawers, but Louis had been the only babysitter that had gone on a significant shopping spree–not that he minded at all. Nonetheless, Harry was sure from his passive observations that between his four predecessors, Louis was the strangest babysitter throughout the five years.

-

“You didn’t fold my clothes, did you?” Louis said in lieu of a greeting the moment he entered the car, the front of Harry’s Rolling Stones shirt tucked haphazardly into his black skinny jeans.

“Good to see you too, Louis. How was your day?” Harry replied evenly as he waited for the boy to put his seatbelt on.

“Oh, come on.” The boy huffed, turning to look at him. “Fine. Hello, Harry. Thanks for doing the laundry. I had a nice day in school. Really got my money’s worth.” He said with a sarcastic lilt before waving his hand in dismissal as Harry pulled out of the lot. “Now, did you fold my clothes?”

Harry was mildly amused by the boy’s persistence. “I did say on Whatsapp that I didn’t. Do you not believe me or something?”

Louis shrugged as he got comfortable, reaching around to pull his phone out of his back pocket. “Nah, it’s just strange, you know. I was thinking about privacy, but then at the same time I kind of wanted you to fold it so I wouldn’t have to.” He laughed at the disbelief on Harry’s face. “Not kidding. But I’m glad that you didn’t. It would have been awkward. Say, do you always do laundry for strangers though?”

Harry shrugged as he made a turn, not in a particular rush to get to Olly’s afterschool care. “Not really. Only for people who wear briefs and too many skull shirts, I guess.”

“Oh my god, you bastard!” Louis exclaimed, his knees jumping as he moved in his seat to face Harry completely, hand reflexively reaching out with the intention to smack him. The boy stopped himself in time, digging his fingers into his chest instead in mock hurt. “You bloody folded them when I told you not to!” He complained, voice slightly shrill despite having admitted that the present outcome might have been nice.

“Stop laughing! Is this a lesson for being a bad babysitter? I’m still good at other parts you know? The laundry does not make a nanny, damn it,” Louis complained when Harry continued to laugh at his plight.

“I didn’t fold them,” Harry assured when he finally collected himself. “I washed your clothes with Olly’s since you insisted, and you know, to save the environment,” he waved his hand at the vague concept. “I was snapping them to prevent the creases, and–” Harry shrugged in explanation.

Louis groaned as he knocked his head against the window. “So you sorted through my clothes but you didn’t fold them. There’s really no winning with you, is there?”

Harry grinned at the statement. “Of course, Special Forces agent and all. Gotta maintain the reputation, you know?” 

“At least I got a free laundry wash,” the boy mumbled as if in self-consolation, only to sigh as he checked his phone. “S’not that great when your boyfriend picks you up only to bully you,” he said lightly as he typed away at his phone.

Harry glanced at the screen that was settled in a Whatsapp chat. “Erm, is that me?”

Louis set his phone down on his bag. Placing his elbow on the window ledge, he turned to appraise the man. “Wouldn’t be messaging you when you’re beside me, would I?”

“No, er I meant the boyfriend thing,” Harry clarified awkwardly, unsettled by the scrutiny. Did Louis have no social skills? “Staring is rude, stop it,” he blurted, frowning at the boy when the light turned red.

“Just getting a good look, Harry. Gotta tell the friends how my new boyfriend looks like.” The boy continued to stare. “The genes in the Styles family isn’t quite strong, is it? Olly doesn’t have curly brown hair at all. But the dimple was successfully passed down, so that’s great. I didn’t quite expect the height on you though. Olly still has more to grow, then.”

Harry took the comments in stride. He was a quick study, and had already come to the fact that the dynamics between Louis and him would be drastically different than that he had with his other babysitters. It was still comfortable though, reminding him of his relationship with Niall – the awful humour and straight talking ways, albeit with Louis there were a little more underhanded digs.

“My hair didn’t really curl until I was twelve, I think. It was still pretty short then, so I’m not too sure. I also had blond hair when I was younger, but the surrogate mother also had blonde hair, so–” he shrugged without much concern. “And you can’t really expect a six year old boy to be really tall, can you? Olly’s already one of the tallest in class.”

Louis looked unimpressed. “One of the tallest? You have to be a little bit more ambitious, Harry. I’ll be giving him milk tonight.”

Harry burst out laughing at the suggestion. “With the vitamins? That was pretty cute. I liked the encyclopaedias too.”

“Of course. Those are the real staples. My mother had glowing recommendations. The vitamins especially.”

Harry hummed in agreement. Louis had four younger siblings and according to his interview, his experience in taking care of his siblings had inspired the selection of his majors, which also gave him confidence in performing on the job. “You didn’t really have to get the books second-hand though. I wouldn’t have minded.”

Louis checked the notifications on his phone before switching the screen off without replying them. “Nah, its fine. Money doesn’t appear from thin air, and the books were still in pretty good condition. It was a good deal.”

“What are the cookbooks for though?”

Louis made a face. “For cooking, of course. I mean, I cook, but it’s not great. It’s too much trouble for a college student, but I’ve got a kid now, so–” he waved his hand vaguely. “Olly chooses the dinner menu the night before and we get any ingredients we need after school. He helps me a little when we cook, so no one gets the blame if it turns out bad.” The boy sniggered shamelessly at the confession.

Harry was aghast at the blatant manipulation. Between a dollar a tooth and allowing his son to cook every day, it was obvious that he had a lot to make up for. He could only be thankful that he had the foresight to prepare pizza dough in the afternoon.

-

The days before the next mission passed uneventfully. Harry tried to have taste test of Louis’ many boxes of cereal, scavenged for more educational books with his new babysitter, and played basketball with Olly for the first time because Louis was convinced that it would help the boy grow taller.

Harry began to know more about his new babysitter than the other four of his babysitters combined, and they had even went to a children musical together which was strange, because none of the others had ever bothered to come along.

Also unlike his predecessors, Louis would return to the living room after they put Oliver to sleep, and his textbooks had become constant in the area, instead of being confined to his own bedroom. The company wasn’t unwelcomed though, and Harry had also watched _Grease the Musical_ with the boy once. He couldn’t help but feel a little awed by how natural their working relationship was.

“Are you taking a picture of me?” Harry asked without looking up from his guns when he felt the boy’s camera trained on him.

“Am I taking a picture? What rubbish is that, Harry?” Louis smirked to himself as he reviewed his photographs. “Obviously I’m taking pictures. No one believes when I say that my boyfriend would blast their head off for talking smack. But now I have evidence,” he grinned as he pressed away on his screen, probably sending them off to Liam or whichever weirdo he associated with.

Harry rolled his eyes as he continued to wipe the upper receiver of his rifle. Louis had explained the fake boyfriend persona a few days ago, and Harry had thought the boy was having too much fun to dissuade him.

Louis had apparently been single for little over a month, but he had been with his boyfriend for fourteen– _‘pretty much equivalent to a marriage, I think’_ –and his friends, especially the _‘stupid, pig-headed’_ Liam had been determined to drag him out even though he was not interested.

Now that Harry the fake boyfriend who always picked him up after school was in the picture, they had moved on to being worried that Louis had found a rebound, and was adamant that they should break up. It was an awful joke to play on his friends, but Harry had become accustomed to the boy’s dark humour.

“Can you look more perverted?”

Harry looked at the boy in disgust at the suggestion.

“Oh come on! Work it, Harry! Make love with the metal!”

Harry frowned before running his cloth over the lower receiver experimentally. It had been years since he felt this lost with a gun in his hands. He winced on Louis’ behalf when the boy smacked himself in the forehead in exasperation.

“Have you ever thought of being a model, Harry?”

“No, I mean–”

“Well, that’s good, because you’re pathetic at it.”

Harry didn’t even bat an eyelash at the remark. The harmless insults had surfaced in day three, and Harry privately thought that it was nice that Louis was this comfortable with him.

“Give me a good lascivious look now, Harry.” The boy huffed through his nose. “Love your metal! In fact, you prefer to stick guns up there instead of dicks!” The boy paused, eyes wide as they met his. “I just kink-shamed! You bloody made me kink-shame, what the hell, Harry! Hurry up, stroke like you’re prepping it!”

“I am prepping it,” Harry mumbled futilely even though he knew that Louis was too carried away to care about his protests.

“Of course you are, Harry. Now good, good. You’re doing a good job,” the boy rambled encouragingly as if speaking to a child. “Yes, yes! You’re a natural gun fucker, Harry! Oh, I think I got the one.” The boy scooted over to his side of the table.

“Do you see the intensity in your eyes?” Louis asked as he held up the phone for the other man.

Harry frowned at the picture. He really did look demented. The sinister smile and the lust in his eyes, fingers pale against the matte black finishing of the gun body.

“I’ll send this to you in case you ever think of building a portfolio. Remember to do the proper credits if you use it, alright?”

Harry rolled his eyes as he moved on to the brush. The boy was too excited about his pictures to bother about his ridicule.

-

“No gun to kill your babysitter with today, agent Styles?”

Harry smiled at the welcome home from Louis. The boy had never let that incident go despite the numerous apologies, and Harry had settled with the comfortable knowledge that Louis would bring it up forever at his own convenience.

“Not this time, Mr. Tomlinson. There’s not much of an element of surprise when the babysitter has come to expect it.” Harry said as he rolled his shoulders in fatigue. He had just returned from a five day long mission to foil a HYDRA biochemical attack in Berlin. While it was more intelligence and close combat than sniping this time round, he still had had little sleep. Looking at the clock, Harry noted that it was past ten and that his son was already in bed.

“Have you had dinner? Would you like some milk, tea, coffee, or anything?” The boy asked without moving from his position at the coffee table, both legs sticking out from the other end, making him look terribly tiny. Harry kept his thoughts to himself, knowing that the boy wouldn’t appreciate his observations.

“We made butter cake this afternoon too. Would you like some?” The boy made a move to stand.

Harry waved him off, capable of helping himself. “Do you want–” Harry offered as he made a beeline for the cake cover.

“Harry, wash your bloody hands!” Louis hissed just as he placed a hand on the lid.

“Oh,” Harry mumbled sheepishly as he headed for the sink. It was a conversation they had every time he returned home, when he scavenged for food while Louis was still awake. The sheer difference in priorities at home and out at field was always disorienting at the beginning. Harry was convinced that he would really never remember to wash them on his own.

Harry cleared his throat when he returned to the cake cover. “Would you like some cake, Louis?” He asked politely, the boy still tracking his movements from the living room.

“No thank you, Harry. I have a figure to maintain.” The boy sniffed disdainfully, finally returning to the notes from his summer term.

“Okay then,” Harry shrugged as he helped himself to two pieces. He moaned appreciatively at the subtle flavour.

After noticing that Harry typically returned from missions hungry, Louis had initially offered snacks, before settling with cakes. Oliver and him had begun experimenting at baking, and they would usually try to predict Harry’s return. Out of the four missions since, Harry had always had cake to return to, except for once where the mission had unexpectedly extended for more than two weeks.

“Are you bringing Olly to the day-care tomorrow?” Louis asked as Harry began on his third slice.

“Mmm,” Harry nodded, his mouth a little occupied. Kindergarten had ended, and Olly was waiting for elementary school to begin. It was one of the things that Harry refused to think about, afraid that he would become weepy if he dwelled on it for too long.

For now, he would focus on the fact that Olly was still of a fairly reasonable size to be carried around in public. Thinking about it, Harry resolved to carry his son to the elevator tomorrow just for old time’s sake.

Harry wondered if Louis ever felt the same sorrow at how much Olly was slipping away. The man paused when he remembered that Louis had but known Oliver for less than six months. Ah, the woes of a parent. Harry sighed to himself morosely, suddenly too upset to have more cake.

“Okay over there, Harry?” Louis asked, his clear voice floating over from across the room.

“Not really,” Harry said honestly. “I am sad,” he admitted as he swallowed, shoulders slumped as he drifted sorrowfully towards his room, suddenly too upset for company. 

-

Harry woke the next morning to someone climbing clumsily into the empty half of his bed, gratuitously kneeing his butt in the process. “Buggy,” he sighed unhappily as he turned under his comforter, stretching his arm out to pat his son good morning.

The man sat up immediately when he registered the boy’s uncanny docility. “Are you ill, Olly?” Harry asked when his son frowned at him with guileless eyes. He reached out to check his temperature only for his hand to be batted away with an eye roll.

The gesture exacerbated Harry’s sadness from the night before. He had gone to sleep fairly early with the intention to forget about his predicament, but the night of thinking had done little, instead making the man fret more.

“I’m not ill, daddy.” The boy replied sanctimoniously with an air of distinct affrontment that reminded him vaguely of Louis. “I think you’re the one who’s ill, daddy. You have sad puppy eyes just like Louis said.” The boy nodded as he reached his hand out to take his father’s temperature.

“Louis, daddy is sick!”

Harry gasped at the statement. “I’m not! Olly’s lying!” He called back out as he flung his comforter over his son, burying the boy in a swift move.

“How bad is it?” The babysitter suddenly appeared by the doorway, dressed in a navy blue button down that was obscenely tight.

“Are you going out?” Harry asked in confusion as he quickly slung an arm around the fidgeting lump by his side.

The boy looked down at his own shirt before pinking. Huffing brusquely to cover up the falter, Louis reached a hand out for his forehead. Annoyed by the strangeness of the day, Harry deflected the incoming hand before depositing the babysitter onto his bed in a swift manoeuvre, careful to control the force he used.

“What’s with you guys insisting that I’m ill?” Harry demanded as he sprung up. “Also, what’s with your shirt? Do you have a date? I don’t think it goes with your ripped skinnies. What will the gays say about your fashion sense, Louis?” Harry asked hurriedly before the boy interrupted and derailed the conversation again.

“You’re mopey, daddy. You’re out of sorts,” Olly said brightly with only his head out of the tangled mess of comforter.

Harry rolled his eyes. “Am I not allowed to be mopey even though I am obviously not?” He returned his attention to Louis, pointing to his own torso despite his own lack of a shirt, in an attempt to return to the main topic at hand. He noted idly that his babysitter looked flush as he looked everywhere but at him. It couldn't be due to his state of dress though, Harry was sure, given the sacrifices that he had made. Harry had always been more comfortable in the nude, but he had dialled it down with the presence of babysitters in his home, only walking about naked when he was sure that the house was his. He had also made it a point to sleep in his briefs as he was now – to provide for unexpected confrontations like this. Given the boy's strange behaviour, Harry wondered vaguely if Louis was the one who was ill instead. 

Louis crossed his arms defiantly when Harry refused to look away. “You are allowed to be mopey, Harry. But it’s strange,” he said. “And I’m not going on a date. I just ran out of clothes again. This is one of my rare remnants from my twinky days.”

“Aren’t you still twinky?” Harry teased as opened his wardrobe in search for a shirt. “Have you looked for clothes in my closet already?” He asked as he selected an ostentatious red button down with eagles and fruticosa-looking trees.

“I would never stoop that low,” Louis sniffed as he titled his chin upwards derisively. Harry raised his brows in challenge. “I’ve already taken what I could,” the boy finally admitted reluctantly. “The rest just makes me look like a vagrant or a dad with really bad fashion sense.”

Harry ignored the jibe as he pulled on a pair of skinnies. “You look fine. It’s just the ripped jeans. Don’t you own a pair of chinos or whatever from your twinky days? You must have a set for pulling or something,” he insisted before returning to the bed to drag his son up. “For the sake of every gay men, please change your clothes, Louis. I’ll settle breakfast. We have places to be, people to see,” he sing-songed as he ushered his son out of the room boisterously.

-

Harry had finished his bowl of Reese’s Puffs, and was in the middle of a banana when Louis finally emerged from his room in a pair of white, non-ripped skinny jeans that revised Harry’s definition of figure hugging.

“Now that’s a real pulling outfit,” Harry beamed as the boy blushed, uncannily subdued. Today was a really really strange day in Harry’s book, not that he knew exactly the significance of it that morning. “Don’t you think Louis looks good, Olly?” Harry prompted his son as he pushed all nine boxes of cereal towards Louis who settled into a seat at the opposite end of the table.

The younger boy agreed distractedly as he returned to the maze behind an empty cereal box.

“Stop it, you beetle.” Louis hushed as he reached for the corn pops, his insults more ineffectual than nerf guns, considerate of impressionable young ears in their presence.

“Come on, you look fine! I don’t see what’s wrong with it. A little tight, but it’s still okay,” Harry assured as he finished his banana and attempted to roll the peel up.

“It’s not just a little tight, you tiny little beetle. It’s _super_ tight. My butt literally ripped the seams apart, and my thighs could barely fit. My pants couldn't even fit this jeans.” Louis shook his head as he shovelled more cereal into his mouth. “Please do the laundry today, Harry. And fold it again. I’m literally suffering for your gay sensibilities.”

Harry hummed in acquiescence. “I’m glad that I skipped the entire twink phase with the military. It would’ve been so embarrassing,” he laughed as he cleared the table while the brunette finished his breakfast. “But I don’t think I would ever have had a twink phase though. I grew up wanting to bat more than catch.”

Louis rolled his eyes as he pushed his now empty bowl towards Harry. “Let’s go, Olly,” he said as he carried their bags and headed towards the door.

Taking the bags as Louis struggled to pull his Converse on, Harry marvelled at the effect of Louis’ extremely tight pants. It really showed off the boy’s already significant asset, he mused to himself as they waited for the elevator to arrive.

-

Harry (9.54am): Finishing the second load, do you want to wash your bedsheets?

_LOUEE (9.55am): OHHHH, YOU FUCKER. LIAM LAUGHED SO HARD. BEEN PASSED AROUND LIKE A TOY WTF._

_LOUEE (9.55am): FUCK YOUR GAY FASHION SENSIBILITIES. I’M BEING BULLIED, WTFFFFFF._

_LOUEE (9.56am): YES WASH IT. YOU BLOODY OWE ME. I’M BEING BULLIED, WTFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF._

Harry (9.56am): Haha tuition is expensive, Louis. Don’t go round picking people up instead of studying.

Harry (9.56am): Bye. Study hard, Louis. Twinks age, but intelligence is eternal.

_LOUEE (9.57am): WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU, YOU FUCKER, WHAT THE FUCK. TWINKS AGE????? WHAT THE FUCKKKKKKKKK._

_LOUEE (9.57am): I BLOODY HATE YOU._

-

_Twinky (11.07am): I AM OWNING THIS._

_Twinky (11.08am): This outfit was selected by free will, and it's strange but you were right, the previous one would have made gay men weep bc bad. But this outfit is good. I am a shining representative of our esteemed community. I am the king of seduction._

_Twinky (11.09am): People fall over their feet when they see me._

Harry (11.09am): Sure. Okay.

_Twinky (11.10am): SHUT THE FUCKING FUCK UP, YOU FUCKER._

_Twinky (11.10am): FUCK OFF._

-

_Twinky (11.23am): DUDE. MOTHERFUCKING TOLD YOU. A GUY CAME UP AND GAVE HIS NUMBER._

_Twinky (11.23am): PEOPLE FALLING OVER THEIR FEET, MOTHERFUCKING TOLD YOU!!!!!!!!!!!_

_Twinky (11.23am): THIS OUTFIT IS BLOODY GOOD, WTF. I OBVIOUSLY KNEW TWO SHITS. GUY WAS BLOODY HOT, COULD CUT GLASS AND SHIT. JAWLINE AND STUFF._

-

_Twinky (12.04pm): COURSEMATE GAVE HIS NUMBER, WTFFFFF._

_Twinky (12.04pm): SAID I HAD A CUTE BUTT, LOLOOLOLOL. LIAM WAS LIKE, DYING, LOLOLLLL._

-

Harry broke out of his productivity haze when the washer beeped. He had spent the morning vacuuming the house, changing the bedsheets, taking down the living room curtains. He had just completed three loads of laundry, and was presently wiping the cow leather sofa down with a damp cloth and a solution of dish soap.

Harry had returned home in a fairly good mood until he realised that he had forgotten to carry Olly to the elevator in the morning. The disappointment had been so consuming, Harry had instead submerged himself within the mundane, obsessively cleaning and fussing in an attempt to divert himself from the fact that his son was leaving for college next week.

All Harry could think about was how Olly had been born a month early, a tiny, ugly looking thing plugged into IVs in the hospital, but how he had been in love even then. Olly had had a bout of flu when he was nine months old, and Harry had been so lost and worried then, almost calling Nick up, begging for a man who didn’t want to stay to return. Harry couldn’t stop thinking about how up on rooftops with nothing but his rifle and the wind for company, he would focus on Olly to keep himself sane and accompanied. Olly had fallen down a flight of stone staircase when he was four and five months old, and his chin had split open, blood staining his blue shirt vividly. Even after seeing so much blood and violence in his missions, Harry had lost all reasoning, sure that his son would die.

Harry had read once the musing of a stranger online–that everyone had that instant in their lives when their parents had set them down for the last time and never picked them up again. The thought plagued him throughout the morning. He couldn’t remember the last time he had picked Oliver up for more than a passing moment during hugs, and he was irrationally afraid that he wouldn’t be able to. Harry was sure that Oliver was presently already too heavy to be lifted, and therefore, he had already begun to make cooler friends, giving lame excuses to return later and later, skip school, and then as a final nail to the coffin, Harry would only get to see his baby over college breaks.

Harry was paralysed by the crushing sense of loneliness he felt. The angst was no less real to him even though it was derived from his own mind.

He was no stranger to it, though. He had once been old friends with Loneliness but for the life of him, Harry could not remember why he had forgotten to invite his friend over for coffee recently. He used to lament at night why this lover of his was so incorporeal, the moonlight shining through it, as unseen to him as to everyone else. Trying to ignore the feeling that he was missing something, Harry attended to the washer and dryer that were now ready.

Harry’s movements were mechanic. He snapped the dried clothes and deposited them onto his bed for folding, transferred the cleaned clothes to the dryer, and filled the washer with his dusty curtains. Returning to the half-cleaned couch, the man caught sight of his phone on the counter.

Louis had sent him messages, he thought cheerlessly to himself, so consumed by his depression spell.

Reading the messages, Harry’s heart missed a beat. Oh, how searing was the pain when it bumbled to life once more in the next moment, as stubborn as hearts always come.

Harry suddenly realised in that instant why he had forgotten about loneliness for so long. 

-

“I got four numbers, Harry!” Louis laughed the moment he threw himself into the car. “Four numbers!”

Harry smiled at the boy morosely, leaning his head against his hands on the steering wheel. “I’m happy for you,” he said sincerely.

Connecting with the side of the car when the boy released it suddenly mid-motion, the metal end of the seatbelt made a dull thunk. Louis turned to look at the man sharply. “Are you okay, Harry?”

Harry blinked sheepishly before wiping his face to buy himself time. He didn’t want to admit how awful and selfish he was. He had come to rely on Louis’ presence over the six months of their arrangement, and it was exacerbated by the fact that Louis hardly went out. They had an awfully co-dependent relationship, that much was clear now that Harry was afraid that the boy would find himself a boyfriend and leave. Harry couldn’t remember when the lines had blurred this much. Perhaps from the very first day? Yes, probably so.

“I’m just being mopey. Don’t mind me,” Harry waved Louis’ concern off as he gestured for him to put his seatbelt on. “Oh come on,” he complained, reaching over to do it himself when Louis refused to relent, a frown on his face as he stared him down with crossed arms. “There you go. So do you have any dates today?” Harry asked casually as he pulled out of the lot.

“Not today. Next week.”

“Oh,” Harry frowned, ignoring the twinge in his heart. Next week was a little too far away. He wasn’t sure if he would be called in by then, and he didn’t want Louis out on dates when he wasn’t around. He didn’t like having strangers around Oliver, and he wasn’t comfortable with Oliver being home alone at night.

“Yeah, don’t worry. I’ve told second dude that next week's a no go.”

“That’s good. Great,” Harry nodded as he signalled to change lanes. “How was school?” He asked lightly, his eyes nervous as they danced between the road condition and the boy beside him.

“Oh for fuck’s sake, Harry. What the fuck is wrong with you today? You came home fine yesterday, but you became sad before going off to bed. You didn't even say goodnight? And then you woke up miserable, suddenly became okay, before proceeding to ignore me throughout school and now you look like someone killed your dog. What’s wrong with you?” He accused, counting off his fingers angrily. 

Harry looked at the roads without seeing. He felt strangely jilted, and he didn’t know how to remedy it. “I’m sad,” he admitted, his shoulders slumping further.

“Yes, we’ve established that. Why are you sad now, Harry?” Louis began brusquely, tone shifting midway in sympathy.

“I’m thinking of leaving S.H.I.E.L.D.” Harry was startled by his own words. Frowning at himself, he slowly realised how much he meant it. He had been unhappy with how his job had been taking him away from Olly, and it had gotten worse with the realisation of fast his son was growing. The boy was entering elementary school, and Harry hadn’t even taught him the multiplication tables. The things that he had missed out on, and failed to accomplish was upsetting.

“Why do you want to leave S.H.I.E.L.D., Harry? Have you wanted this for a while? Do you know what you want to do instead?”

Harry explained himself vaguely with a shrug, leaving out the mathematics conquer plans even though he was sure that the boy would approve. It almost sounded like a plan from Louis himself. He wasn’t sure about his future plans though, but he agreed with the boy that he could consider filing a request to be based solely in New York.

A security company would be good, too. He could use his contacts to staff his positions. Harry looked at the sky idly while they waited for the lights to change, wondering to himself when the constant drizzle that had persisted throughout the day had stopped.

-

“Do you have mace?” Harry asked in concern as he watched Louis rifle through his closet while Olly sat on the boy’s bed, working through his multiplication tables. “I’m sure that I have an unopened can of S.H.I.E.L.D.’s standard issue spray somewhere.”

Ignoring his son's mortification, Harry had carried the boy back to the car from day care, and they had then picked up new charts and books after lunch. It had been a good idea to mention his plans to Louis, Harry had learnt, after the boy offered tips to jumpstart the process, having taught his youngest sisters the tables himself.

Harry had insisted after, that the boy should arrange a date with one of his many suitors that night. He wanted some alone time with his rapidly growing son, to listen to his ardent concerns about the social networks in the day care, to marvel at his occasionally wise statements that manifested from his simple worldviews, and to watch the way the boy responded to things.

“Oh flip off, Harry,” Louis turned away from his clothes. “I aced the S.H.I.E.L.D. self-defence class, didn’t I? Even disarmed a nutter that tried to break into the house.” The boy smirked when Harry huffed. Mildly paranoid about Oliver’s safety, Harry had signed all his babysitters on for basic self-defence classes with S.H.I.E.L.D., which had contributed to Louis’ instinctual ability to disarm him during the first night.

Coaching his son through the multiplication tables again, Harry reminded Olly that memorizing was hard, but unfortunately essential. He returned his attention to Louis after.

“It’s not enough though. What’ll happen if you’re being chased, and you can’t run because your pants are too tight? You’re going to die, Louis.”

Louis rewarded his comment with a scathing look of disdain. “I’m not going to be dressed like this, beetle. I keep feeling like I’m going to split at the seams and end up completely naked or something.” The boy said before pulling an outfit and heading towards the adjoined toilet.

Harry shrugged to himself before returning to listen to Olly reciting the two multiplication tables. He used to like setting the boy on his chest and listening to him babble. It wasn’t quite the same, but Harry couldn’t help but think that it was still good.

-

“So we had to write about our weekends, and Jamie said they went to a water park, and there were many slides, a lot of pools, a longgg river, biggg floats, and a lottttt of water.” The boy waved his hand before breaking a piece of the butter cake. “We haven’t been to a water park before, have we?”

Harry hid his smile behind the cup of milk. “I don’t think we have, Olly,” he said evenly.

“Well, tomorrow’s Saturday…” the boy trailed off speculatively.

“Oh, right! How about a picnic at the park? You can take your bicycle out, and we’ll play at the playground.” 

The boy was momentarily torn by the offer. “That does not make a very exciting composition, daddy,” he decided finally with a shake of his head.

“Do you have a better idea in mind? Maybe I could bake some cookies for the picnic.”

“No, daddy! We have to go to the water park tomorrow!”

“Oh, I don’t know. Wouldn’t you be copying Jamie like this? He goes to the water park, you go to the water park. He might get angry,” Harry feigned.

“You wouldn’t be having much fun if you keep worrying about what Jamie thinks, daddy. I think we should go to the water park,” the boy made the executive decision as he popped the final bit of cake into his mouth. “Then we’ll go to the park for a picnic on Sunday. Cookies and all.” He slapped his hands together in glee, kicking his legs exuberantly under the table.

“It sounds a packed weekend, but I don’t see why not. Are you going to invite Louis to the parks?”

“Obviously, daddy. Louis is coming,” the boy said, exasperated by the mere suggestion of otherwise.

Harry refused to frown and worry his son. His babysitters typically had weekends off when he was around, but Louis had tagged along with their outings throughout the six months, sometimes even suggesting things they could do together. However with the boy’s new line of dates, Harry wasn’t sure if Louis would be available this weekend. He didn’t want to dash his son’s excitement though.

“Louis’ out with his friend right now, and I’m not sure when he’ll be back. Do you want to tell him about your plans?” Harry offered as he pulled his phone out of his pocket. It was an awful, underhanded method, but Harry refused to feel guilty about his ploy. It was strange if Harry dashed Louis’ plans for the night by informing him to return home early, but it would be adorable in contrast if Oliver did it instead with his puerile excitement.

Harry was convinced that he was a terrible, terrible person destined for hell. He enjoyed spending time with Oliver, but he had grown so accustomed to Louis’ presence that he kept expecting the boy’s dark humour at every turn. Harry had felt strangely unsettled throughout the night, loneliness winding itself around his chest.

Harry refused to entertain the idea of Louis returning home with another boy. The image made him jumpy and upset, but he didn’t know how to tell the boy to come home tonight without sounding unreasonable. He was just Louis’ employer and maybe friend, and he didn’t have say over the boy’s proclivities.

“Daddy says that we can go to the water park. So we’ll be going to the water park on Saturday and the park for a picnic on Sunday.” Olly read out after frowning at the screen for a long while. "With cookies on Sunday," he added as an afterthought, careful to not let Harry go on his promise. 

Harry put the dishes into the dishwasher, his skin itchy from the consciousness of what he was doing. “Are you going to explain about the water park?” Harry prompted as he urged the boy to finish his milk, taking the cup when he was finished.

“Nah, Louis knows,” the boy replied airily as he drummed his fingers on the table, waiting impatiently for a reply. “Why is Louis called Twinky, daddy?”

Harry sputtered, touching his forehead with a wet hand. “Um, it’s a joke. Do you want to change his name for me?”

“Okay,” Olly replied brightly as he exited the app. Heaving a sigh of relief, Harry moved to wipe the table.

“Why don’t you need to explain about the water park, Olly?” Harry asked when he remembered.

“Oh, I told Louis about Jamie, and he said we could go to as long as you agreed. We’ve already gotten tickets to Splish Splash.”

Harry was vaguely dumbfounded at being distinctly out-manipulated. “You’ve already gotten tickets?” He asked in disbelief.

Olly nodded as he set the phone down. “Yeah it’s cheaper if you get them earlier.”

“That’s smart. I never knew I was so easy though,” he mumbled to himself, a little light-headed from the revelation.

“No, it’s because you’re nice, and you’re invested in my happiness.” Olly shrugged to himself. “That’s what Louis said.”

Harry hugged his knees when they migrated to the couch, distantly wondering about the conversations he had missed while he was away on missions.

“Oh, Boobear finally replied!” Olly swiped at the screen read the reply. Why was Louis Boobear? Harry felt strangely out of the water.

“He says that it’s great, the pool opens at ten, and that we have to wake early for the drive. ‘Tell daddy that the boy is boring,’” Olly relayed faithfully as he looked at his father for clarification. Harry felt the pressure around his chest relent.

Smiling at his son, he wrapped his arms around the boy as he smothered him with noisy kisses. “Why don’t we have a blanket fort tonight? Let’s make sure that your weekend beats Jamie’s once and for all.” Harry suggested, laughing when his son went still in his hands as he turned pink in the face, shock mixing with pure ecstasy. 

Harry silently wished that he would be able to see the same expression on his son’s face forever.

-

Harry (8.36pm): We’re having a blanket fort and your pillow was sacrificed.

Harry (8.37pm): I think you might have to participate when you return home.

Harry (8.38pm): He thinks that he isn’t going to fall asleep but he totally is. He’s sleepy already.

Harry (8.39pm): Be careful when you leave.

Harry (8.40pm): Why does Olly call you Boobear?

_Boobear (8.44pm): WTF, dude is not perceptive at all. Sending 1000 not interested signals and he doesn’t get it._

_Boobear (8.44pm): Dinner was a fucking mess and now we’re at a pub. WTF._

Harry (8.44pm): Are you okay? Are you able to leave?

_Boobear (8.44pm): Nice, blanket fort._

_Boobear (8.45pm): I’m okay. I just don’t know how to leave._

Harry (8.45pm): Wtf, you’re Louis. How can you not know how to leave a bad date?

Harry looked up from the dimmed screen of his phone, smiling when he noticed that Oliver had already dropped off to sleep, head flat against the comforter. Harry lowered the volume of the cartoon, deciding to move him a little after. Harry smiled at the softness in Olly’s slack expression, only reminded of Louis’ plight when the phone vibrated on his lap.

_Boobear (8.48pm): Escaped to the bathroom. This is a mess._

_Boobear (8.49pm): He wasn’t really interested then he got interested, and then it was all night out, lemme have fun anyway and he keeps rubbing his dick against me like a dog in heat._

_Boobear (8.49pm): SO NOT interested in being a fuckhole._

Harry (8.50pm): I don’t want to be rude, but you’re Louis. You CAN tell him to fuck off. Louis Tomlinson takes no shits.

Harry (8.51pm): If you need help, I can come down?

_Boobear (8.51pm): No, no, don’t come down. Oliver needs to sleep._

_Boobear (8.51pm): Can you tell me how to tell him no?_

_Boobear (8.52pm): I’m feeling very awkward. Been a while since I went out._

Harry (8.53pm): First, you’re going to leave the bathroom. You can call me if you want, and you’re going to say your roommate found out that his girlfriend was cheating on him and he needs you.

Harry (8.54pm): Say you’re sorry but you have to leave and that you’ll call him.

Harry (8.54pm): Pretend to talk to me, tell me that it’s okay and stuff if you want to. Look frazzled and rushed.

Harry (8.55pm): Go out, get a taxi. I’ll reimburse you.

_Boobear (8.55pm): No, no. You’re paying me enough already._

_Boobear (8.56pm): Okay, gonna call soon. Is Olly okay?_

Harry (8.56pm): Yeah, he’s fallen asleep. I’ll get out of the fort right now.

_Boobear (8.57pm): Shit, sorry._

Harry’s heart was thudding with worry as he ducked into Louis’ room. His hand fumbled when the phone lit up with Boobear’s call.

“Hello? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, thanks for picking up. God, I feel so silly.” Louis sounded upset as he took a deep breath on the other side of the phone.

“No, no. You’re being prudent. I’m glad you called. Are you feeling better?” Harry asked as he sat timidly on the edge of the empty bed.

“Yeah, wait. Getting into the zone. Cooperate, okay. Don’t ruin it for me.”

Harry bit his lip as he listened to the fumbling, then the background sound of the bar filtered into the speaker. “Shit, I need to leave. I’m so sorry. My friend found that his boyfriend of fourteen months was cheating on him and he’s crying at the doorstep of my house. I need to leave, I’m so sorry.”

Harry frowned to himself when he caught the change in narrative. “Harry, you still there? Yeah, I’m coming home right now, shit, shit, don’t cry. It's okay,” Louis suddenly crooned into the phone and Harry fumbled to find a response.

“Um–” he began, but Louis had moved on with his apology to apologize to Callum the date, promising to call him soon.

“Fuck, I’m out. Gonna get a cab, I swear that this was such a bloody waste of my time.” Louis swore, a little out of breath suddenly. “No one’s following, that’s great. It’s so stupid, what the fuck.”

Harry made a noise of agreement as he played with his the nail of his thumb in the dark of Louis’ room, phone pressed between his neck and his shoulder.

“I think he expected me to be a twink, so he was disappointed when he met me again? But I’d already spent time getting ready, and I haven’t been on a date for months, so I just fucked it and stuck around. Wait, I’m just gonna take the subway.” Louis suddenly declared.

Harry swallowed as he fell back onto the bed, thinking distantly about the changes in his life that had brought him to this moment as Louis huffed lightly while descending the steps into the station.

“Anyway, as I was saying, around midway he went to the toilet, came back, and was like a changed person. I think he decided that it wasn’t that bad or something? But the conversation was still awful. When we moved on to the bar, he was literally clinging on like an octopus. We might as well have shared a seat, the way he kept rubbing up against me.” The boy paused with a sigh. “This was awful. I don’t think this dating thing will work out.”

Harry wrestled the selfish urge to agree with the statement. “Erm, I think you need to know what you want, and then to be yourself. This wasn’t erm… sort of a good representation of the people out there for you because you weren’t really yourself today. Erm... I think how you dress reflects who you are, and this is especially so in the gay community. Research have shown that twinks have a set of stereotypes unfairly attached to them, er–” Harry paused, flushing when Louis’ sniggers filled his ear. “Sorry, I kind of lost track of what I wanted to say,” he apologized.

“You don’t say, Harry. But I understood what you meant. I have to know what I want, and be myself when I work for it. I guess I wouldn’t be going on anymore dates then.”

Harry frowned when the pause stretched on. “Erm, you aren’t? I thought you were excited.” He offered, just to fill the silence.

“There’s no point going on random dates when you know what you want, and where to get it, is there? Gotta go, Harry. My friend just realised that he’s wasted fourteen months on an idiot. Gonna tell him that the next one with the curly hair’s it.”

Harry looked at his phone in shock when the call ended.

-

Harry had worked himself out of a tizzy and progressed into a state of calm by the time he heard the whirl of the cypher lock. Watching the boy enter, Harry wondered why Callum couldn’t see the perfection that Louis was. Dressed in his favourite denim jacket, a lame-assed skull T-shirt, and a pair of ripped jeans with his hair in a quiff, Louis looked just as precious as he did in his twinky glory. Harry steadfastly refused to worry about all the boring, respectable things that he wanted to do with the boy.

Louis was such an enigmatic creature, he thought to himself as he watched Louis instantaneously mask the nervousness that had flashed across his face when Harry gestured for him, to an air of pointed indifference. It had been so quick that Harry would have missed it had he not been looking carefully at the boy in worry when he returned. Louis was always so careful with his emotions.

Harry pressed the door shut behind them. “Did you mean what you said,” Harry asked, their eyes meeting the moment the light flickered on.

“What did I say?”

Harry was exasperated by how the boy was still playing his cards close to his chest when confronted. But it was such a Louis thing to do, Harry couldn’t find it in him to get mad. “You said that I was the one." Harry barrelled on, knowing that the boy had served, and the ball was on his court. He wanted to make it count. “We’ve been holding ourselves back. I’ve been relying on you for so long, you’re no longer just my friend or a babysitter.”

“But I’m twenty nine and a father of a six year old boy. I can only give you so much. Unlike me, you’re still young. I want you to do things people your age do, and I want you to open your childcare in the future. I treat you with respect because you deserve it, and one day someone will be able to see it like I do and they’ll be a–”

“Are you telling me why you can’t be with me?” Louis snapped.

“It’s the reasons why I haven’t done anything. I want you to understand why I may not be the right choice for you.”

Louis pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration, closing his eyes as he seemingly counted to ten. “Have a seat, Harry,” he offered as he gestured at the space beside him on the bed. Harry complied reluctantly, wary of the boy’s intentions. He froze when Louis’ wrapped his arms around him tightly.

“You’ve been used to being a dad for so long, you don’t know how to stop sacrificing for the people you care for.” Louis mumbled, refusing to relent until Harry relaxed in his arms.

“You have to learn to treat me like an equal. You aren’t just a choice to me. I respect you just like how you respect me as an individual with dreams and a future. I will fight to make the things you want come through, in the same way you would to see mine do the same.”

“And we all have different priorities. When you were twenty one, you were going on missions and investing on your relationship with Nick. When I’m twenty one, I want to get good grades, make a six year old boy happy, and annoy the boy’s father. It’s not that complicated, is it?” The boy prompted as he squeezed the man tighter.

Harry gave a shaky smile in response. He understood Louis’ argument. He had always been conscious of the fact that he was a father, and that he was in a different stage of life compared to Louis. Even though he was romantically interested in the boy, Harry had still adopted the perspective of a mentor to navigate their relationship, instead of that of a peer.

“It might take a while for me to–” he gestured vaguely, referring to the attitude change. “But I still want it,” he blurted when he noticed Louis’ expression. Harry was ashamed by how selfish he sounded.

“It’s okay,” Louis said as he reached for his hands. “I want you to learn to want things for yourself.”

The simple gesture left Harry jumpier than he had ever been even during in his first explorations of sexuality. The simple idea of breaking a constraint so fundamental to his existence in the past six years scared him. 

“Can I… kiss you?” Harry asked shyly as he looked away from Louis’ soft blue eyes, nervous about the boy's answer.

-

**3 years later**

“I literally knew that this day would arrive,” Harry complained for the umpteenth time in the two hour long drive from the airport to the house of Louis’ mother and step-father for Christmas.

“Oh for fuck’s sake, you idiot,” Louis said in an angry whisper, careful not to let the sleeping boy in the back seat hear him curse so splendidly. “He’s not going to marry the silly girl! All he said was ‘ _oh, it’d be nice to sit with Emily._ ’ Maybe he wants to copy her papers. Maybe she has a set of nice highlighters. Stop advancing your heterosexual agenda, you fantastic beetle.”

“I’m gay!” Harry replied in the similar whisper. “Your ass should know!”

“Then act like it and stop being so insecure!”

Harry bit out a smile at the accusation. He gestured for his fiancé to lean in. Louis huffed, glaring at the driver before complying hesitantly.

“People with big dicks aren’t insecure,” Harry said softly, swiftly deflecting the slap from Louis without losing control of the car, reflexes as sharp as the day he officially left S.H.I.E.L.D. He had started a security consulting company with Niall, who had used their contacts to hire enployees and acquire clients. Among their many services, they had fortified surveillance, reviewed security infrastructure, and provided cybersecurity to major customers, inclusive of mega malls and the government.

The job was different, but still similarly fulfilling. A clear advantage was the allowance it provided for Harry to invest time on the people he loved, and Harry was careful to waste none of it. 

“Says the person who chose this SUV,” Louis complained as he crossed his legs on his seat. “If it isn’t overcompensating, I don’t know what is. All of my kids would be able to fit in here.”

“All of your kids are fitted in here,” Harry said cheekily as he wiggled his brows. Louis was working at the a prestigious childcare in New York, gaining work experience and learning how to run one successfully before pursuing his dream.

Louis sniffed unhappily, “I’m glad that you know what I have to deal with, Mr. Styles.”

“Mm, of course Mr. Styles.”

Louis jumped at the response, his face flushing as he immediately turned to stare out intently from the window.

Harry bit his lips at the cuteness, his heart swelling with affection for the man beside him. “I love you, Louis,” he said frankly as the car continued towards their destination, Oliver fast asleep at the back. There was a long pause before the reply came.

“I love you too, you beetle.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry for the late, I've been swamped out of the blue. 
> 
> I'm sorry that Harry's not Bond, but more like Bucky without the Winter Soldier, without the WW2, without a Steve-which isn't very Bucky, whelp. I hope that you liked it anyhow though! 
> 
> Please help to pick out any mistakes! 
> 
> Reference of facts and stereotypes of twinks (I really liked the first one. I also learnt what 'Cubs' were in the gay community):  
> Finlay, J. (2015, February 20). Research finds twinks top the list as bottoms. Retrieved July 8, 2016, from http://gaynewsnetwork.com.au/news/research-finds-twinks-top-the-list-as-bottoms-16653.html  
> Flores, J. (2014, June 12). 9 reasons why being a twink is a bummer. Retrieved July 8, 2016, from http://thoughtcatalog.com/jayson-flores/2014/06/9-reasons-why-being-a-twink-is-a-bummer/


End file.
